Dreams
by selena11anuri
Summary: Series of oneshots about dreams the Avengers have after the final battle. Cannon or mostly cannon pairings. First: Tony Stark decides working is more important than sleep and Pepper disagrees.
1. Tony Stark

[AN: This is a series of one shots based on dreams the Avengers have after the events of the movie. Various characters cannon (mostly cannon) pairings. There will be five. If you like them please review or favorite (feedback is appreciated). –Selena]

{{Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers, sadly, or the movie would have been longer.}}

IRON MAN

It wasn't strange for Pepper to wake up alone. She spent more time away from her boyfriend than she liked but on those nights they could be together she immensely disliked waking up to find his pillow cold and the covers folded over so they would fall off as she rolled around. Groaning about the early hour Pepper Potts slipped out of bed and felt around on the floor for her dress, her other clothes were still packed or back in California, or Madrid, or China, or one of Tony's other houses around the world. She was sure her favorite black dress was in a drycleaners in London and she just hadn't gotten it back but that was a different worry.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes Miss Potts," the computer replied in the annoying voice Tony had given it.

"Where's Tony?"

"He's where he always is."

"Did he program you to say that?"

"Naturally."

"Make a note: I need to pick up a dress from a London drycleaners."

"Of course," Jarvis replied, sounding board though he had no emotions.

Pepper made her way, barefoot to the workroom on the floor below where she'd often find the billionaire tinkering with his suit. Not to her surprise he was in welding gear, the visor flipped up and inspecting his handy work on the innards of his suit.

"What are you doing?" Pepper asked.

"Fixing," He replied mildly and didn't look away. Pepper yawned.

"It's four in the morning, what is more important that sleep at this hour?"

"I'm pressurizing the Mark 7, there are some problems with it's performance."

"It leaks?" Pepper asked him with a raised eyebrow. "That's hardly something that needs to be dealt with right now."

"No, it's water tight," Tony muttered as he pulled up some holographic schematics and played with them mildly, "just not air tight."

"You have air filters," Pepper muttered, "and an oxygen supply. I can't think of a situation that would require more than that."

"Space," Tony replied with his back to her.

"Space?"

"Yep, space," Tony muttered.

"Why would you need to go to space?"

"I've already been," he sat down.

"To SPACE!" Pepper's voice was louder than she intended but she was shocked, scared, enraged. "So what? You think you'll just fly up to space for FUN! Then realize that your suit isn't meant for that! You could have died, you could have been lost forever, you could have burned up on reentry, do you think at all?" She panted.

"There was a bomb," Tony shrugged.

"WHAT?"

"Strictly speaking SHIELD doesn't want anyone to know that they nearly nuked New York…"

"NUKED?"

"We…"

"How many hundreds of people would that have killed? Why would they even consider that? There are children, hospitals, innocent people…"

"I know!" Tony cut her off, his face uncharacteristically serious and bothered. Pepper was silenced and her anger subsided as she looked at him with concern.

"Are you alright?" She asked hesitantly.

"It was just a nightmare," Tony explained with averted eyes.

"Guess that's why you're down here fixing the suit," Pepper sighed. She sauntered over to her boyfriend, catching his eyes invariably. She had his complete attention by the time her hands were holding his face, and his cupped her hips comfortably.

"Just promise me one thing," She leaned down till their faces were inches apart.

"Anything," he assured her with his trademark smug grin.

"No more space trips in the near future," she whispered against his lips.

"I'm not planning any," he assured her and let her push all thoughts of troubled sleep and work from his mind.


	2. Loki

[AN: Ok yes he's not an Avenger but I love him and Tom Hiddleston did amazing so… here it is. Beware contains angst (the next one will be worse).]

{{Disclaimer: Still don't own Avengers but I am training a group of Ninja's to get it.}}

LOKI

_Childish laughter filled the inter connected courtyards of the summer palace as Odin's sons chased each other around t he winding golden wall and hid behind the exotic jewel colored plants. _

"_I see you Loki!"_

"_Take that!"_

"_Aaaargh, you got me," the young blond boy cried out as he fell over dramatically. _

"_For once!" The smaller boy with black hair groaned and sat down, panting beside his brother. They both took a moment to catch their breath as six winged dragonflies flew overhead in the hot air. "Why'd you let me win?" The smaller boy asked his brother._

"_What? I thought you were over there! That's a great trick Loki!" _

"_You think?" _

"_Yeah! But I won't always fall for it! Again?"_

"_Yeah!" Loki stood up to run but found his wrists encircled and held back, he pulled at them but the wouldn't give. He looked up into the older eyes of his brother, filled with sadness but more than that, disappointment. Anger surged in Loki and he shouted after Thor's receding back. _

Loki awoke suddenly and he breathed deeply of musty air of his prison. "Not my brother," he muttered to himself, "not my home, never was. Lies, all of it… lies." But one small part of his heart that had not been corrupted, that pained him more than his pride and jealousy combined didn't believe the words.


	3. Natasha Romanoff

[AN: WARNING Angst! In my little world they get over this but interpret as you wish. If I get enough angry reviews I will write and epilogue of happiness.]

{{Disclaimer: My ninja's have failed me and I still don't own the Avengers. Damn!}}

NATASHA ROMANOFF

_Gone, gone was the only word to describe the gun wrenching feeling. The feeling of brokenness, worthlessness, lost! She couldn't feel them, she couldn't move, she couldn't make her legs move! They weren't there! They were… Gone! Panic overtook her heart and it pumped so fast, furiously, frantically as if it could take the place of her legs but they were still ghosts, un-moving, gone!_

_Soft familiar laughter reached her ears._

"_What will you do now Tasha?" He asked and came into her view, smirking, laughing, all the pleasure she'd seen him show in her company now brought out by her pain. _

"_No…" She whispered brokenly, "no, no, NO!" But he knew her greatest fears and casually lit the match. Her nose was filled with the smell of sulfur and gasoline. It made her choke and she fought back bile. _I don't' want to die like them! I don't want to DIE LIKE THEM! _She wanted to scream but nothing came out because she was looking into his eyes, his blue, ice cold, dead eyes and saw nothing but joy. The fire was everywhere it rose up like an explosion of heat and light that threw the face she knew so well into contrast. A new laugh joined the crackling, roaring flames. Natasha choked and gagged and tired to crawl away. Pull her dead weight torso and the stumps dangling uselessly off it across the ground. _

"_Tasha!" Clint cried out in anguish. Through the fear, the mortal terror she knew that she didn't suffer alone._

"_NO!" He cried out and then a sickening wet crack._

Her eyes flew open to the gray dawn and though her body was heavy with sleep her heart hammered in her chest and her vision was clear. Clint looked back, his face only a foot from hers and deadly calm as he stared back into her wide eyes. They were silent for a long moment, lying in their double bed, five stories above the streets of Venice, breathing in the perfumed air of the hotel. Without a word he rolled away, stood silently, letting the covers fall away from his naked body. He casually dressed himself half way before taking his vigil at the window as he had for the past three days. Three days since New York was attacked, three days since the Avengers went their separate ways, three days together in near silence, three days healing, or trying.

It was fully morning, the shouts of the people below making their way up to the fifth floor room, when Clint broke the silence.

"We should eat," he said simply and that was all they needed. Silently dressed, silently to the café that had become their habitual morning spot, silently nodding to the waitress for what they had yesterday and the day before, silently sipping tea and coffee as if they weren't battle scared and stress weary.

"Are we ever going to talk about it?" Natasha asked, broaching the taboo subject.

"What is there to discuss?" Clint looks away out at the nearby canal and the passing boats. And they lapsed into silence.

Night came, both to quickly and not fast enough. Then the inevitable words that had been held back when imminent threats were more important came up.

"You should have shot me," Clint held his vigil at the window again.

"What?" Natasha looked up from the book she read half heartedly.

"You should have shot me! You had the perfect opportunity on the Helicarrier. It was sloppy."

"Sloppy? I saved your life!"

"But you shouldn't have!"

"Without you we wouldn't have known where Loki would be, what he was planning, or…"

"Cut the crap! You didn't do it for any of those reasons!" Clint turned to her now, eyes filled with cold disappointment and rage, at whom those feelings were directed, she didn't know. Clint, as she well knew, was sometimes easy to misread.

"I don't see the problem," She said going back to her book with a peevish expression, trying to end the conversation.

"You said you wanted to talk!" He shot back.

"I asked if we ever would!" She returned with more venom.

"Well we're talking now," He crossed his arms.

"No, you are reprimanding me for doing my job!"

"Your _job _was to protect S.H.I.E.L.D. not me!"

Loki's words echoed in her mind _"You would bargain for the life of one man?"_

"I wasn't…"

"Why didn't you shoot me then?"

"Do you want me to shoot you?" She stood up from the bed now, anger pumping through her veins.

"I want to be able to trust you Tasha!" He said angrily as he advanced toward her, "but I can't do that if your feelings get in the way of your judgment."

"I have my feelings perfectly under control," her voice was low and menacing.

"Yeah," he scoffed, "I can see that. That's why you cry in your sleep like a child…" He didn't get to finish before the floor disappeared from under his feet and Natasha tackled him, her hand pinning his right arm inches away from his back-up knife, his other arm under his body and her hand in his hair. She painfully bashed his head against the carpeted floor and cushioning be damned it hurt.

"Don't you _ever_" she knocked his head against the floor again for emphasis, "call me a child!" He sounded too much like Loki.

"Agh," he gasped painfully as the Black Widow stood and left him on the floor. His quiet breathy laughter protruded on the tension and grated against Natasha's nerves. How could he always find exactly the wrong time to laugh.

"Who are you so angry with?" He asked her with a rueful smile in his voice. "If it was me I'm sure I would be in a lot more pain." Natasha just kept her back to the man on the floor.

"Shut up," she muttered.

"I kept thinking it was me and you'd crack eventually," he murmured.

"How did you know I wouldn't kill you if it was?" she whispered and wondered if he could even hear her.

"What you said on the ship, about the red in your ledger," he replied, "made me think you wouldn't."

"I'm not mad at you," she replied.

"They why the dreams?"

"It's… what Loki said."

"Loki? Loki is gone!" He said, smile gone. And perhaps he was saying it more for himself than for Natasha.

"But you're still here!" She shot back as he finished. Looking over her shoulder she saw his confusion and explained.

"I told you about… the hospital fire… and…"

"And I told Loki, god Damn," Clint picked up quickly and his fist hit the footboard hard with a resounding crack.

"Loki's plan was to have you kill me, then kill you himself," Natasha went on, "he taunted me while I was interrogating him."

"So the dreams…"

"Just remnants."

Clint stood and approached her cautiously, placing his hands gently on her shoulders.

"Don't touch me," She snapped a pulled away, anger bleeding through her mask of indifference. "You're right, I am angry! I'm angry that I was betrayed, I'm angry that you would put me in that place, that you would leave me so exposed and I didn't kill you not because I cared about you, I didn't kill you because I was angry and a bullet in the back of your head wouldn't be painful enough!" Natasha ranted at him as she grabbed her scattered belongings, clothes from the floor, guns from under the bed, Russian books from the nightstand. They were all packed haphazardly into her suitcase. "I need to leave," was the only explanation she gave.

"Where will you go?" he asked, not moving from where he stood, watching detachedly as she packed. "Back to SHIELD?"

"If SHIELD needs me, they know how to contact me," She muttered. "I can't go back there yet."

"Will I see you again?" He asked. It was always a question when they parted; will our paths cross again? Will we die before then? Do we ever _want_ to see each other again?

"I don't know," Natasha strapped on her twin pistols and pulled a jacket over her nondescript clothing to cover the weapons. "Goodbye Clint."

Before he could find a way to say the same she was gone, the carved door swinging shut in her wake and he still hadn't moved.

[AN: Reviews keep me alive!]


	4. Thor

[AN: This is a little different. I don't know if Jane and Thor saw each other before he left but I don't think he'd leave (Loki or no) without seeing her at least once. Thanks to all the lovely people who reviewed, favorited, or story alerted this. You make my day! There will be a happy ending for Nat and Clint just wait a little longer.]

{{Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers… still…. T.T}}

THOR

Jane was brought through layers of sleep and dream by an echoing absence, like the noise after an air conditioner goes off.

"Hm?" She tried to roll over but as her sense returned through the fog of sleep she found that she was comfortably nestled beside a large warm body. Her eyes opened more quickly as memories rushed back, pleasure and longing coming together in one night. She could feel heat rushing violently to her cheeks at the thought.

"Good morning," Thor's deep voice greeted her into wakefulness and his warm lips caressed her temple briefly. "Did I wake you?"

"No, no," She mumbled and didn't even try to keep the glowing smile off her face.

"Good," He murmured and they lapsed into a comfortable silence as light seeped into the room. But his question stirred later, more subdued memories of the previous night which prompted Jane to break the silence with a question.

"Thor?"

"Yes, my love," He replied and the blush that had faded from Jane's face returned in full force.

"Do… do Agardians dream?" She questioned hesitantly. Thor seemed a little surprised by her question then his face softened into sorrow and something more powerful like anguish. "I'm sorry," she said immediately, feeling terrible for ruining the little time they had together before Thor would take his brother back to Asgard for trail.

"I assure you it is alright," he said with the utmost sincerity, "Our dreams are much like human dreams that I have heard of, but more vivid. I'm sorry if I woke you in the night as I dreamed."

"It seemed… " Jane drifted off as she remembered a similar look that had twisted his face as he tossed that night.

"I dreamed about Loki, my brother," Thor explained.

"How can you still call him that?" Jane asked without anger only sadness for what she knew her lover was feeling.

"Because I still remember him that way. When I think of Loki I do not think of him as a traitor, I can only see the happy memories of our childhood but… it seems he remembers them differently."

Jane wrapped her arms further around his bare chest and reached up to kiss his cheek.

"You are a better brother than he deserves."

"Perhaps it is his fate that is lacking and not his character though I cannot speak for either, he has changed since he fell from Asgard and I do not know what he would have become had he been raised in Jotunheim."

"What will they do to him in Asguard?" Jane dared to ask. She wasn't afraid for the trickster's sake, but for what his fate might mean for Thor.

"That is for the council to decide," Thor replied, his voice unreadable and his expression distant.

"They won't… kill him will they?"

"No," Thor answered quickly, a hint of relief in his voice, "that is not our way," His face was still troubled so Jane changed the subject.

"You'll be leaving soon so let's enjoy the time we have. Breakfast?" She pulled on a smile and weather it fooled Thor or not he grinned and went along.

"Only if there is coffee. I have missed it since leaving."

"Careful or you won't be able to live without it," Jane laughed and they got up to face the day whatever it might bring them.

[AN: Reviews make the world go round, or at least my own personal one.]


	5. Nick Fury

[AN: I wrote this one for kicks XD. Then next I will end with Clint and Natasha again… but better. Thanks for reading!]

{{Disclaimer: A new force of Ninja's has been trained and released on the unsuspecting copyright holders… they have yet to return thus… I… don't… own… ANYTHING T.T}}

NICK FURY

Agent Fury's mind was unusually distracted as he made his way to the officer's mess in the recently repaired Helicarrier. He was distracted enough even to mutter under his breath as he entered the room to find a few stragglers up at the ungodly hour and his assistant Agent Hill sitting alone and nursing a cup of coffee as if it was her lifeblood. He went to his secret stash of the good stuff (the stuff that actually tasted like coffee instead of whatever acid the others had been coerced by the government into thinking was coffee) that was less a secret and more protected by his reputation. Still Fury had no worries that his underlings would dare to tough his supply. But low and behold he tilted the last bag down to his good eye and found a single bean rattling around at the bottom.

"AGENT HILL!" Fury growled out suddenly and the brunet jumped four feet before stumbling up and to attention.

"Y-yes Sir!" She stumbled over her words.

"Where's my damn coffee?" He asked her turning slowly so he could see her with his good eye.

"Sir?" She was momentarily confused.

"My coffee, the only palatable drink on this god forsaken floating prison, where. Is. it?"

"I-I…"

"When's the next pane leaving?"

"Sir?"

"When's the next mission leaving?"

"In… four minuets Sir."

"Well for the good of us all they had better bring back some better coffee!"

"Yes Sir," and a very flustered and terrified Agent Hill made a run for the deck.

"Hmf," Fury shook his head. "Loki…dreams… teach him to steal my coffee" he continued to mutter under his breath unintelligibly and abandoned all hope of a caffeine fix until the most recent mission returned.


	6. Clint Barton

[AN: Here's the happy ending for Clint and Natasha you asked for and sorry it's so late. Time got away from me.]

{{Disclaimer: My ninja's … they have FAILED ME. I own nothing.}}

CLINT BARTON

"Five… four… three… two… one…" The computer's soft feminine voice chanted up to the timer's buzz.

WHIZZ! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK, THWACK, THWACK… the sound of arrows on targets was like a rapid snare drum until that picked up in volume and depth as the arrows ran out and became bullets, almost two clips… then silence.

"Accuracy... one hundred percent… speed… sixty two seconds… penalty for excessive force… total score…" the computer voice was cut off by the last shot burying itself in one of the many automated targets that now stood still, two arrows or bullets in each bulls eye.

"Please wait for the simulation to begin," the computer reminded Clint and he growled under his breath. The computer that ran the moving targets and lights powered down as he stood, shaking and tense with an empty quiver on his back, an empty gun in his hands, and an empty clip on the floor at his feet. With a shuddering sigh he leaned back against the nearest wall and sank happily to the ground, head in his hands and palms pressed against his aching eyes.

He needed sleep, he knew it, everyone on the ship knew it, but no one would say anything to him. He'd barely spoken six words to anyone since his debriefing. Four perfect missions without trails, messes, or questionable actions and he still got those looks in the hallways. But those he could stand, they were the ones that reminded him of the guilt he should feel, that he'd always feel, and if he ever stopped feeling it he'd hope Fury shot him in the head because he wouldn't be human anymore. It was the guilt they shouldn't remind him of that broke Clint.

He used to dream about what he'd done for Loki, the killing, the things he'd said and the people he'd hurt, but those dreams had faded with time as he came to terms with what he'd been forced to do. Now he just dreamed about the fall out.

"_Don't touch me."_ Her voice echoed in his head and it was so much more real in his dreams.

"_I didn't kill you, not because I cared about you…" _Those words were like blades in his chest.

"…_I didn't kill you because I was angry…" _Everything he feared had been thrown in his face all at once and it wouldn't leave him alone even now.

"… _and a bullet in the back of your head wouldn't be painful enough!"_

"Aargh!" Clint stood so fast it was a blur and threw all his frustration at the wall. It just gave him a throbbing hand and bruised knuckles to show for it. Breathing hard the archer let his sweaty forehead fall against the cold wall and fought back his emotions. How did she do it, keep back feelings like this? How could Natasha fucking Romanoff go on like these emotions didn't exist? The answer was in her words.

"…_not because I cared about you…"_ She'd never cared and Clint was just naive enough to think he might have been different from every other man in the world.

"Thought I'd find you here," Her voice was too real and it was twisting the proverbial knife. She was always the only one who could sneak up on him.

"What do you want?" Clint spat out.

"Fury said you would want to speak to me," She said professionally and he wouldn't turn to look at her composed face, always composed, always in control, even as she left… duffle bag in hand, her Russian novels poking out of the top, twin pistols on her swaying hips as she pulled the French doors closed behind her… it was all too real in his memories.

"Yeah well," he whipped his forehead but didn't turn around, "Fury was wrong." She was silent and for a moment he thought she'd left as silently as she'd come in.

"Really?" She spoke up and she'd only gotten closer.

"Yeah!" He said louder than he intended and turned finally to glare at her. They faced off for a long moment, open fury to closed professionalism till he asked again. "What do you want Romanova?" She twitched at that and he didn't hide his satisfaction.

"Don't call me that?"

"Why not?" He goaded her on, too many sleepless nights cursing all the ways she could make his squirm catching up to him.

"It's not my name," her voice was strangely soft in comparison to his.

"Really?" He questioned with a humorless grin, "Cause I don't know anymore." Clint turned to go with all the intention of gathering his gear and raiding the med bay for sleeping pills. He didn't make it two steps before he felt his feet swept from under him, and small strong hands pushed his head down onto the hard metal floor. Her flexible legs caught his in a lock and his arms was twisted up against his back, the other immobilized between the heal and the toe of her boot.

"Get a hold of yourself, Barton," Natasha warned.

"I'm perfectly in control," He spat, anger continuing to rise.

"I can see that," She knocked his head without warning against the floor and he gasped in pain.

BANG!

"Fuck you!"

BANG!

"Cognative recalibration, worked once it just might the second…" She didn't finish because Clint got his hand free and pushed off the ground to flip her gracelessly but effectively and returned the favor, her red curls spraying out on the gray floors like fire as her head connected solidly.

"Aaugh!" She hissed and brought her knee up into his side. Clint rolled away clutching what he knew would be a nasty bruise and cursed under his labored breath again. Shakily he stood but Natasha wasn't getting up again, she just laid where she'd fallen and stared up at him with the same impassive face she'd worn when she'd arrived, the same face she had on when she left Venice, and the same face she'd worn when they first met. They stared at each other again and a conversation passed without words. Then she said what no one else had found the courage to:

"You need sleep."

Clint just turned away and returned to gathering his things. Over the clink of his arrows and the metallic click of his firearm he almost didn't hear her.

"I'm sorry." He froze.

"Sorry?" He asked as he turned to her, still lying on the floor. "Sorry for what? For leaving me in Venice? For shoving every reason I have to hate myself in my face and walking out?" He advanced on her, hands empty but menacing even without them. "For leaving me alive when I should be in a six foot hole? For hiding everything from me and expecting my trust you in return? For taking that trust for granted? Or are you sorry you got hurt? That you had some psychopath lay out all your fears instead of rummaging around in your mind and rearranging it at will? Are you sorry that I dream about you screaming at me every night as if I could make all those things disappear?" He growled out the last sentence as he stood over her and she just nodded, she nodded and closed her eyes, tears he hadn't seen forming flowing down her cheeks. She didn't try to wipe them away or hide but just cried there in front of him silently.

All the breath, the anger, the tension flowed out of Clint like water and he felt empty standing over the woman he loved as she cried. It was like breaking the surface after sinking but also like being crushed by an avalanche all at once and it paralyzed him. Slowly it faded and he knelt down next to her, not touching her, not even trying to and waited until she could drag in air and compose herself enough to sit up.

They were beside each other but not facing; she was just a red haze in his peripheral.

"Me too," he whispered, and the sound echoed in the large space.

"It wasn't you," She responded, "it never was."

"I know," he admitted. "I took out my anger on you. I wasn't ready to accept… what I'd done."

"Clint…" Natasha tried but he went on.

"I did those things, for Loki, but they were still me. I accept that," he said with assurance. "I hurt you and I will feel guilty about that for the rest of my life. That does not mean the guilt will rule me."

"I did the same… it was unfair after everything you'd already endured." She said softly. Those few words somehow soothed the months of restless waiting.

"Are we gonna make it through this Tasha?" He asked her and turned to see her smiled. It seems she'd missed the nickname as much as he'd missed saying it.

"We've made it through worse," She replied with the smile still in place.

"Yeah?" he was skeptical, "when?"

"Budapest."

"You and I remember Budapest very differently," He returned and she finally looked at him.

"I remember you said I screwed up," She returned.

"And you said the same," He replied.

"And?" She asked, curious.

"You said I loved you," He said with a kind smiled.

"And you said the same," She replied.

He leaned in to brush his lips against hers, delicately, lightly, but lovingly. When he leaned back a tear was making its way down her cheek again.

"Tasha?" His voice was close to breaking as he brushed the tear away.

"I said goodbye… Clint I said… and I meant it," she was nearly babbling so he put a finger to her lips.

"You came back," He replied.

"You waited," she whispered.

"You waited for me when Loki took me," Clint shrugged.

"And you came back," She smiled fully now and leaned in to capture his lips more forcefully with built up passion and heat.

"Always will." He promised and it was as close to 'I love you' as they got but it was how they were. Clint left his arrows buried in the simulation targets and his bow unfolded on the bench but it didn't matter. He was sleeping soundly at last, peaceful and dreamless as he put the last of the Loki incident behind him and held close the part of his life that mattered the most.


End file.
